


Symmetria

by goldenraeofsun



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dean Winchester as Death, Episode Fix-it, Episode: s15e18 Despair, First Kiss, Jack Kline is a Winchester, Jack Kline is the Darkness, Love Confessions, M/M, Minor Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Post Series, Post-Episode: s15e18 Despair, Reunions, Sam Winchester is God, Team Free Will 2.0 (Supernatural)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:41:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27473677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenraeofsun/pseuds/goldenraeofsun
Summary: When all’s said and done with Chuck, Dean takes his time getting used to his new gig as capital D Death. Billie, of course, did not see fit to leave him a training manual. But with his brother-turned-God on his side, and Jack as the new Darkness, they all muddle through.Finally, all that's left is to rescue Cas from the Empty.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 57
Kudos: 481





	Symmetria

**Author's Note:**

> A million thanks go out to my beta readers, [spaceboundwitch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orange_Coyote/) and [Adsdragonlover](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adsdragonlover/)!

Dean doesn’t make an immediate trip to the Empty when all’s said and done with Chuck. He takes his time getting used to his new gig as capital D Death. Billie, of course, did not see fit to leave him a training manual. Instead Dean gets a squad of whiny _angels_ (reapers, but still) to manage and a bajillion books to read, so he does his best to channel his inner Cas and get the job done. 

It’s nothing like that day old Death brought him along on Take Your Human to Work Day. For one, Dean's been to Heaven, so he’s not as torn up about reaping kids and good people. He can tell them with complete honesty, _You’re gonna be in a better place. Heaven's awesome._ No cryptic bullshit when Dean’s holding the scythe. 

For another, he’s also been to Hell, and Rowena herself set him straight on her plans for the place. Sending dead scumbags and murderers down to her is the highlight of his day. 

It’s still exhausting work, and he gets why Billie thought it would be a better punishment than killing him outright. He can never rest, never find peace, since there’s always a job to do. Death and taxes, and all that. 

Not that Dean wanted to kick the bucket before his little brother. But now Sam’s capital G God, so they’ll both be hanging around for a while longer. When Dean reaps him, Dean’ll give one of his lackeys the scythe, and they’ll both party it up in the Empty. 

Oh, and he’ll reap Jack too, since Dean can’t reap God without the Darkness. Balance, as those damn books keep telling him. 

“Hey.” Dean stomps his snowy feet on the welcome mat. He hikes his take out bags higher in his arms. 

Eileen signs hello. “How are things?”

Dean grins as they make their way to Sam and Jack in the kitchen. “Sent a Wall Street embezzler down to Rowena before I got here.” He knocks hard on the table with his knuckles to get Sam and Jack’s attention. 

Jack looks up from the textbook they both had been pour over, beaming. “Dean’s here.”

“Already?” Sam’s gaze darts to the clock above the oven. 

Dean drops the food on the table. “It’s Sunday dinner! I wouldn’t miss it since you’d probably starve without me.” He pulls out a chair and flips the book to his side of the table. He scans it with mild interest. “What’re you working on?”

“History!” Jack says brightly. “I’m learning about ancient Rome.”

Dean turns to Sam. “You know, you could just _take_ him to see Caesar, right? Or I could. Rowena gave us an all-access pass.”

Sam bitchfaces at him. “That’s not the point, Dean.”

“The point is to learn critical thinking and rhetorical skills without supernatural assistance,” Jack says, and obviously those aren’t his words judging by the proud look on Sam’s face.

Eileen shakes her head, signing emphatically, “I don’t know if that counts if _God_ is helping with your homework.”

“I’m just supervising!” Sam protests.

Dean snorts. "Uh huh."

Jack peers at the takeout bags with interest. “What did you bring for dinner, Dean?”

“Russian,” Dean says with a grin as Jack pulls out a container of pierogies. “Borscht, stuffed cabbage, and stroganoff. Plus some vegetable thing. I don’t know - it was all in Russian.”

Sam rolls his eyes since a little thing like a _language barrier_ isn’t really a problem for them anymore. They’re all fluent in ASL from a snap of Sam’s fingers. He had first offered to restore Eileen’s hearing, but she politely declined. Being Deaf is part of her identity, apparently, just like keeping his stupid Jesus hair is Sam’s.

“This looks delicious,” Eileen signs as she gets to her feet to grab plates. Jack hops up too, making a bee-line for the cutlery drawer.

Sam tosses Jack’s homework on the empty seat at the table. “How’re you doing?”

“Fine,” Dean says. He pulls the stroganoff closer for first dibs.

Sam narrows his eyes as he accepts a plate from Eileen. “You sure?”

“What?” Dean makes a face. “It’s true.”

“I think you can aim a little higher than _fine,”_ Sam says exasperatedly. “You’re a universal constant who has Sunday dinner with two cosmic beings. Plus Eileen.”

“I do only come here for Eileen,” Dean acknowledges solemnly.

Eileen winks at him as she sits back down. Jack laughs.

“There’s gotta be something else you want out of this,” Sam says, gesturing around them.

_The one thing I want, is something I know I can’t have._

Dean swallows down the lump in his throat and dumps stroganoff on his plate. He deliberately does not look at the empty chair to his right, currently occupied by Jack’s homework. 

“It’s too soon,” he grunts.

“Is it?” Sam asks, eyebrows raised. “You’ve got your reapers under control. I’ve created enough new angels to run Heaven without blackouts. Jack’s got a handle on his Darkness powers _and_ settled in at school. There’s literally been no better time.”

Dean sighs. “What if something happens?” He looks at each of them in turn. “We’ve finally got something good going for us.”

Jack makes a face like he killed yet another plant without meaning to. “But is it really good without Cas?”

* * *

Dean has lost count of the number of times he’s replayed Cas’s final moments on Earth in his head. He has also lost count of his regrets. There were so many times he could have said something, done something. Been the _loving_ man Cas talked about in his goodbye.

But he isn’t.

He can’t love Cas. If Dean did, he would have caught on a hell of a lot sooner. Wouldn’t have waited or held back. Wouldn’t have, for the first time in that moment, questioned whether Cas could feel something as human as that. For _him,_ of all the mud monkeys on planet Earth.

Instead, he just stood there like a jackass and let Cas get taken away by black goo _again._

Love is sacrifice. Cas hammered that point home like no demon deal, no trials, no soul bomb ever has.

But Dean’s a Winchester, and if their family is known for anything, it’s throwing sacrifices back in each other’s faces - spitefully, lovingly.

Sam and Eileen hit the books. Jack writes down all he remembers about his time in the Empty.

It takes two weeks to come up with a spell to take out the Empty, or, at least, temporarily cut it off at the knees.

Dean, Sam, and Jack head back to the Bunker. Technically, Dean still lives there, but he’s usually all over the country, carrying out his Deathly duties. He hasn’t spent the night since they took out Chuck. After the adrenaline crash, he just sat back with his brother-turned-God at the war table and wondered if this’ll be the rest of their supernaturally long lives. Neither of them said much.

They prep the spells in the kitchen before heading down to the dungeon - the most secure room in the Bunker. Dean, tense as a coiled spring, tries to keep up with the laughs and jokes, but Sam keeps shooting him knowing looks.

“You good?” Sam asks as they get ready for the last seps. 

Dean, his mouth dry, can only nod.

They prop up the bowl of ingredients on an old filing cabinet, and Jack stands by with Empty bombs (based on Kevin’s demon bombs). Sam bleeds into the bowl and reads out the Enochian.

The whole Bunker rumbles ominously, before the overhead lights pop out, one by one.

Dean almost laughs - or cries. Hard to tell in the dark.

Shadows bubble up from the middle of the floor, blacker than anything else in the room. Dean adjusts his grip on his scythe, waiting with bated breath as the tarry, otherworldly substance takes a humanoid shape.

It settles on a body and a face, and Dean sees red. He stabs it straight in its trenchcoated chest, right where its heart would be.

The Empty stares down at the blade, its expression turning to wry amusement. “I believe the saying is ‘deja vu’?”

“Shut up,” Dean hisses. He yanks his scythe back as, behind him, Sam snaps his fingers. A few of the lights repair themselves. To the Empty, Dean growls, “Wear someone else’s face.”

The Empty bristles like it’s almost offended. “No?”

Sam pulls Dean behind him before Dean can stab it again. “Hi,” he says loudly over Dean’s angry spluttering, “I know we got off on the wrong foot last time, but-”

“Wrong foot?” the Empty interrupts, head tilting.

Dean’s fingers tighten around his scythe. How _dare_ that thing wear Cas’s face, do Cas’s thing, talk like Cas. Only Sam’s arm in front of his chest stops Dean from surging forward and finishing what he started. 

“Yeah,” Sam says with a warning look at Dean. “In Death’s library - well, old Death. Dean uses a hard drive to store all his books of fate now. Look, you’re probably still pissed I woke you up, but all we need is one thing, and then we won’t bother you again.”

“Oh,” the Empty says. Its forehead furrows in a way Dean had seen on Cas too many times. The burning ache of regret flares with a new heat, and Dean glares murderously at the Empty as it says, “That wasn’t me.”

Sam’s mouth opens and closes. “What?”

The Empty clears its throat. “You met the old Empty. Billie and I killed it before she died.”

“The Empty can die?” Dean asks roughly.

It nods, its attention turning to Dean almost hungrily. “It was weakened from Jack’s explosion. Billie didn’t want to help me, naturally. But if the last Empty was still in charge, Billie’s final rest would have been far from peaceful.” It smiles. “I could also guarantee she would never have to see any of us ever again.”

“And who’re you?” Dean demands.

The smile drops off the Empty’s face. “You don’t know? After all this time?”

Dean swallows, a terrible, wonderful hope struggling to breathe in his chest. He tries, his voice almost a whisper. “Cas?” 

The Empty nods, the corners of his mouth twitching up. “Hello, Dean.”

Dean turns to Sam for verification because there’s no fucking way Dean trusts himself anymore when it comes to Cas. But Sam’s face reads nothing but mingled relief and joy, so -

Dean lets the scythe drop with a clatter and strides forward on shaky legs. Cas tenses like he’s bracing for impact. “It’s alright,” Dean tells him in a low voice as he squeezes tight. Cas is real, alive (or alive as any of them are at this point), and back in the Bunker where he belongs. “I got you, Cas.”

Cas sighs, an exhale of bone-deep weariness. He buries his face deeper in the crook of Dean’s neck. Dean holds on even though it’s been way too long for a normal hug. But hell, Cas fucking loves him. Cas can deal with a little extra hug time.

Sam coughs pointedly as he steps up for his own hug. “It’s good to have you back, man.”

Cas smiles as he accepts a few manly back slaps from Sam. 

Jack rushes forward for his turn. 

“Jack,” Cas says reverently as he wraps his arms around him. “You’ve done so well.”

“Thank you,” Jack says, his voice cracking. “I missed you, Cas.”

Cas just shakes his head, overcome with emotion. “I’m very happy to see you.” He mutters a few words, too low for any of them to hear, as he disentangles himself from Jack’s arms. He looks around at the three of them. “I’d say you all are doing very well for yourselves.”

Grinning, Dean picks up his scythe and gives it a little spin. “Gee, what gave it away?” He sobers as Cas doesn’t say anything, just stares at him with an unreadable expression on his face. “But you already knew that,” Dean surmises.

“Chuck told me.”

Sam's eyes go wide. “Chuck?” 

“When he died, he was sent to the Empty,” Cas says shortly. “To me.”

Sam grimaces. “Sorry.”

Cas’s lips press together in a thin line. “It took forever for him to shut up. I suppose I should have expected it.” He sighs. “Chuck always did pride himself on being a storyteller.”

“And a dick,” Sam adds. 

“Chuck told me about how you defeated him - his ‘greatest creations’,” Cas quotes sourly, “and about the cosmic consequences, which included a changing of the guard - God, the Darkness, Death,” he shakes his head, adding, “the Empty.”

 _“This_ was his plan?” Dean growls, his voice a mixture of anger and surprise. But his rage dies as Cas slowly shakes his head. 

“Not exactly, but he said he could appreciate the symmetry.”

“Of course he could.” Dean runs a hand down his face. “Jesus Christ, please tell me that’s the end of him.”

“I have complete control over the Empty,” Cas assures, “He isn’t waking up any time soon.”

“Oh,” Dean says awkwardly, “good. That’s good.”

Reluctantly, Cas tears his gaze away from Dean. He straightens, his mouth set determinedly, and asks Sam, “There was something you wanted?”

Sam shakes his head, his eyes dancing with amusement. “Not anymore.”

Cas’s brow furrows. “If you need anything from the Empty, I can give it to you.” He glances at each of them in turn. “As I told you once, I am always happy to bleed for the Winchesters.”

“No,” Dean chokes out before Sam or Jack can get a word in, “No goddamn bleeding - of any kind. Just, no.”

Cas’s frown deepens.

Sam grins. “We were gonna ask the Empty to wake you up. So I guess… we’re good.”

Cas blinks a few times in confusion. “You wanted… me?”

Jack throws him an incredulous look. “You’re a part of us, Cas. Of course we wanted you here.”

* * *

Dean makes burgers for dinner. Even though none of them need to eat, they’re far too used to it to stop. By the stove, he listens with half an ear as Jack peppers Cas with updates on the new world order and high school. Every once in a while, Sam’s voice comes through with a few modifiers and anecdotes.

Jack turns in first, complaining about leftover homework.

Sam takes off next, saying he promised to buy bread and eggs on the way home to Eileen. He leaves Dean and Cas alone in the Bunker’s kitchen.

Neither of them say anything as Sam’s footsteps fade up the stairs to the exit. Dean steadily keeps his eyes trained on the half-empty beer bottle spinning around in his hands. Cas sits next to him at the table, happy as a fucking clam to sit in silence, staring at Dean like he’s a goddamn miracle.

It’s too much.

This is why Dean didn’t jump to bring Cas back to the land of the living. It tore him apart inside, like metaphorical hellhound claws digging into his gut. Sure, Cas deserved to be topside. Cas deserved to have his happy ever after like the rest of Team Free Will 2.0. What Cas didn’t deserve, was a man with his head so far up his own ass he couldn’t muster up three measly words when they mattered most. And Dean had no idea how to tell Cas any of that.

“Dean,” Cas breaks the silence first because for all he said in his big goodbye speech, Dean’s a fucking coward. “I didn’t think I would ever see you again,” he clears his throat, “so I didn’t anticipate the position I would put you in by showing up. I apologize.”

Dean turns to him, alarmed. “No, don’t apologize. It’s my - I should have - you were - son of a bitch.” He presses his lips together so he doesn’t go blurting something stupid like _you were so wrong about me; it fucked me up for a while._

“It’s okay,” Cas says gently. “I’ve seen Jack and you and Sam. That’s all I wanted since I left. Truly.”

Dean sucks in a breath, his pulse spiking with fear. “That sounds like another goodbye. I don’t - I don’t think I can take another one of those from you.”

Cas blinks. “You want me to stay?”

Dean’s mouth works furiously before he demands, “You don’t want to?”

“No,” Cas draws out slowly like he’s concerned for Dean’s sanity, “but if my presence-”

“Stop,” Dean holds up a hand, “just ‘cause _I_ don’t know what to say to you -” _liar_ “- doesn’t mean you have to get exiled from the whole planet. You saved the world, the same as us. The very least you get is free rent for eternity.” 

“If you say so,” Cas says doubtfully.

“Jack would be real upset if you fucked back off to the Empty for the rest of time,” Dean adds. “He’s studying the Roman Empire and could use some help from someone who was there.” He takes a sip of beer, and fuck cosmic tolerances. He could drink a whole liquor store and not feel anything. 

The corners of Cas’s mouth twitch. “I was actually stationed in China during that time. I would be a minor help at best.”

“Then make it up,” Dean says with a grin. “It’s not like Jack will know the difference. And if his teachers call him out on it, Sam can wave his magic wand and make it true anyway. All hail President Clinton.”

Cas snorts. “That would be one way to help, I suppose.”

Dean drains his beer, a purely instinctual response, before he starts, “You’ve levelled up. Got a power upgrade as the Empty.” At Cas’s tentative nod, he goes on, “You could’ve said something, dude. Given us some sign. I - we all thought you died. For good.”

“I cannot come to Earth without being summoned,” Cas says heavily.

Dean makes a face. “Rules like that never stopped any of us before.”

“You could have performed the summoning ritual at any time - all the cards were in your hands.” Cas’s gaze drops to the table. “I thought you didn’t want to see me.”

Dean shakes his head vehemently. “That wasn’t the case at all.”

“But you said you don’t know how to talk to me,” Cas points out.

Dean swallows. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want you around. I didn’t know how to talk to you when you were cuckoo for cocoa puffs, when you had fucking _amnesia._ Hell, it was even weird when you were human. But things are… better with you here. No matter what.”

“Really?” Cas asks, the doubt clear in his voice.

“Of course,” Dean says gruffly. “You gotta know that.”

“I didn’t.”

“Yeah, well,” Dean says as he gets up for another drink - old habits, “now you do.”

“Do you still believe this?” Cas presses.

“Never doubted it for a second,” Dean promises as he sits back down.

“Even after you sent me away?” Cas asks quietly.

“Hey,” Dean says sharply, “You made that choice to walk out that door.” But that old anger doesn’t survive long in the wake of the look on Cas’s face. Dean smiles humorlessly as he twists the cap off. It clatters to the table, the sound echoing around the empty kitchen. “But, yeah, that was me being angry over a bunch of shit that was out of our control. Not you. You just happened to be in my line of fire.” Dean takes a long pull from the bottle. “What a guy to fall for, huh? Blames you for everything that goes wrong and makes you think you’re better off gone.”

Cas freezes. “So we’re talking about it?”

Dean raises his eyebrows, half in surprise at himself. “Guess so.”

“Nothing has to change,” Cas assures him. “The only difference is you know about my feelings for you.”

“How long have you had them?” Dean asks with a casual air that’s one-hundred percent, Grade-A bullshit. 

Cas presses his lips together as he thinks. “Since you took me to that brothel.”

Dean chokes on his drink. “Seriously?”

Cas ducks his head, a surprisingly human gesture of embarrassment. “I didn’t know it then,” he says in a low voice, “all I knew was that I wanted to impress you. I had never felt that way about anyone before, except God.”

“Gross, man.”

Cas purses his lips. “Not like that.” He sighs. “But I suppose it happened the year I made that deal with Crowley.” He reaches for his own beer bottle, long emptied sometime in the middle of dinner. He spins it between his fingers contemplatively. “I told myself I made the deal to make the world safer for you, so you could live out your retirement in peace. But it was just a convenient ploy to keep myself busy. You didn’t need me for the first time since Hell.” He presses his lips together. “My love for you made me reckless and blind, as approximately 231,600 love songs could have told me, if I had bothered to listen to any of them.”

Dean chuckles. “It probably would have been better if you just had an emo phase.” At Cas’s frown of confusion, Dean waves it off, “Forget it. It’s water under the bridge anyway.” He sips his beer. “Since the Purgatory deal? That’s a long time.”

“Not for an angel,” Cas counters. “I’m extremely old.”

Dean snorts a laugh. “Touché.”

“You’re not going to ask why I never told you before?”

Dean shakes his head. “You made that pretty clear in your little goodbye speech. _‘The one thing I want, is something I know I can’t have’,”_ he rattles off the phrase that had been bouncing around his skull for the past month and a half.

Cas bites his lip, a shade of hurt lurking behind his eyes at hearing his words parroted back to him. “I had always known my feelings were fruitless. Telling you was more of an act for myself than for you,” he says to the table, “but I didn’t think I would be around to know what that meant for us.”

“I get that,” Dean says haltingly, “but they’re not.”

“They’re not what?”

Dean forcibly lets go of his empty beer bottle because he’s going to shatter it if he says this next bit with glass between his hands. “Your feelings. They’re not fruitless. They’re, uh, pretty fucking fruity.”

Cas’s mouth opens and closes, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. “Is that a dated and offensive reference to homosexuality?”

 _“What?”_ Dean yelps, “No!”

Cas sits there, nonplussed.

“Your feelings,” Dean says through gritted teeth. “What you want. You can have it.”

Cas makes a frustrated noise in the back of his throat. “I don’t understand.”

“Of course you don’t,” Dean mutters. “Even with all of history crammed in your noggin, you don’t get it. Fine.” He shifts in his seat so he can face Cas fully. “Let me clear things up for you. Just… smite me if I cross a line.”

“Dean,” Cas protests, “As the Empty, I can’t smite any-”

Dean cuts him off with a kiss.

As far as first kisses go, it’s passable. Cas clearly has some experience - he doesn’t go straight for the tongue, but he’s frozen for so long, Dean almost pulls away to check if he drastically miscalculated. But Cas exhales, tentative hands wrap around Dean’s forearms, and he pulls Dean in closer. Dean smiles against his mouth, small puffs of laughter escaping as Cas’s nose bumps against his. He cups Cas’s jaw in one hand, and Cas lets out a little sigh, melting the last few layers of Dean’s reservations about this whole business.

It’s the promise in the kiss that makes it awesome. This isn’t _their_ end. For once, the world isn’t on fire, and they’re not playing catch up with an apocalypse.

It’s just them, Death and the Empty.

The Endgame for every human, angel, and demon on Earth.

Suck it, Chuck. _That’s_ fucking symmetry.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is rebloggable on [tumblr!](https://goldenraeofsun.tumblr.com/post/634325882542096384/symmetria)
> 
> This was based on a fan theory on Tumblr I read stupidly early on Friday morning post ep. and didn't save it. If anyone comes across a post talking about TFW replacing Chuck et al, please send it my way so I can properly attribute it!


End file.
